


Calling All Monsters

by Worker_9



Category: Original Work
Genre: Amateur Radio, BDSM, Blood, Blow Jobs, Costumes, Cunnilingus, F/M, Femdom, Halloween, Mad Science, Magic, Multi, Mummies, Muscles, Pubic Hair, Sex scene is male POV, Vaginal Sex, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 09:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20703371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Worker_9/pseuds/Worker_9
Summary: Their costume party cancelled, Liz and her friends investigate the mysterious old house instead. Meanwhile, something strange is happening on the air. Brian, with no help from the rest of the Ham Radio Club, goes to track down the source of the transmission, which appears to be originating from that same house...Request fill for Anonymous.





	Calling All Monsters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).

Halloween was Liz’s favorite day of the year, and she wanted her first Halloween away from home to be a special one. Naturally, her costume was spectacular. Even Hayley, her roommate, and not the type you’d expect to be into Halloween things, was excited about it. After seeing what Liz could do with a sewing machine, and after getting past her surprise that she’d brought a sewing machine to college in the first place, Hayley had accepted Liz’s offer to make her a costume too.

Hayley was over at Claire’s place already, because Liz hated people watching her sew, especially with the deadline fast approaching. It was already getting dark. But now, just in time, the finishing touches were complete. Hayley’s costume looked almost real, even with the synthetic fur.

Liz packed everything into a plastic bag and set out across campus for Claire’s dorm. For now, she was wearing her usual black jeans, heavy leather boots, and a faded band shirt. The eyebrow and ear cartilage piercings didn’t really fit her costume, so she’d taken those out, but the ear lobe, tongue, and navel piercings remained. No change to her makeup either: black lipstick; heavy black eye-liner, and pale foundation. She’d touched up her black nail polish too.

She caught a few guys glancing at her as she walked. Nobody interesting looking, and nobody in costume, which wasn’t too surprising. The big party hadn’t started yet. Just you wait, thought Liz. I’ll really give you something to gawk at. She arrived at Claire’s dorm, and paying no attention to the preppy-looking girls hanging out in the dayroom, made her way through the wood-paneled corridors. It was a pity they’d modernized the lighting.

Claire’s door was closed. Liz knocked, and called “Hayley, Claire, you in?”

Hayley’s voice came from inside, “Hold on a sec.”

The door swung open, and Liz entered. Claire’s state of dress explained the door. She was standing completely naked while Hayley tried to wrap her with a big roll of bandage. Hayley was still in her tracksuit. Liz closed the door. She’d seen Claire naked before, but only for a few seconds. Her curiosity had to be satisfied, and preferably without obvious staring.

“Hey Liz,” said Hayley.

“Hi Hayley, Claire,” Liz replied. “Got it done.” She set the plastic bag on the floor.

Claire pulled the loose bandages from her legs and sat on the bed. Claire’s naked breasts had nothing on Liz’s own, although they were bigger than Hayley’s. Her hair was shoulder length, straight, and a natural black, which irritated Liz somewhat. Must be nice not having to dye it. But then again, Claire shaved her pubes, which was more effort that Liz was willing to make. And although nobody could accuse the heptathlon star of laziness, Hayley would even bitch about having to shave her pits, so of course her bush was all natural too. Claire didn’t even have stubble. Eyes up. Liz was more into guys anyway.

“Good evening, Liz,” said Claire. “We could use another pair of hands. The wrapping process is more difficult than anticipated.”

“Well yeah, you’re supposed to be a corpse,” said Liz. “You can’t go fidgeting like that. Need a little rigor mortis to keep you still.”

“That’s the crux of the matter,” said Claire. “The ancient Egyptians weren’t trying to balance mobility with modesty. Too tight and I can’t move; too loose and I accidentally flash somebody.”

Liz chuckled softly. “Yeah, the idea is ‘moderately titillating,’ not ‘total slut.’ How much skin are you showing?”

“It’s more a question of _where_. I’ll leave some strategically placed gaps to keep their imagination active. Maybe some glue would help.”

“It should be tar, really.” said Liz. “You finish the panties?”

“Yes, there.” Claire pointed to her desk. The white cotton panties were still rather skimpy even after Claire’s modifications: strips of bandage glued in place to give the illusion that they were all part of the same wrapping. They weren’t structural though; the idea was that Claire would wear them over the rest of the costume, so she’d be able to take them off without having to undo the whole thing.

“How about we put a strip around your waist as a belt for the leg bandages?” asked Liz. She grabbed a roll of bandage and a pair of scissors from the desk.

“Good idea,” said Claire. Liz measured out a strip of bandage and pinned it around Claire’s waist with a safety pin.

“Not so tight!” protested Claire.

“That’s not tight,” said Liz, tugging the improvised belt. “We’ll do the legs now, starting from the feet. Hayley, you got the right? Be sure the sandals can hide the pin.” Liz began to wrap the bandage around Claire’s left foot, enclosing her big toe separately so the sandal strap would fit, and Hayley started on the other side.

Liz loosened the wrap around Claire’s knee, checking she could still move freely, then tightened it again around her thigh. Claire stood up and her two friends worked their way up her body. “Some of those strategic gaps on the upper thigh,” said Claire. The two embalmers loosened the wraps again before fastening them to the belt. Claire bent her knees experimentally, then stood up straight, now wearing what was effectively a pair of chaps.

Claire’s upper body was a little more difficult, but Liz handled the join between the arms and torso without too much trouble. They left her armpits and navel exposed, and despite the the double layer over her breasts, Claire’s nipples were still visible through the fabric. Liz fastened the last bandage behind Claire’s neck then stood back to admire her work.

“Claire, that looks great,” said Liz. “We’re going to have the best costumes for sure.”

“Let me put the panties on first.” Claire stepped into them and smoothed the wrapping down, hiding the join. She turned so Liz and Hayley could check everything was in order.

“Looks just like a single wrap,” said Liz.

“It totally does,” agreed Hayley. “Good work there.”

“Accessories now,” said Claire. She added a necklace of polished stone beads, and around her head a gold-colored diadem, decorated with a snake emblem in blue enamel. She completed the look with several bracelets and anklets.

“Those real gold?” asked Hayley.

“Gilt,” said Claire. “Solid gold is uncomfortably heavy.” She took a small glass bottle from her desk. “And now, the final touch.” She began to dab liquid from the bottle on her body, and a strange but pleasant scent filled the air.

“What’s that?” asked Hayley.

“Myrrh,” said Claire.

“It’s proper embalming perfume,” explained Liz. “The traditional scent of the well-preserved corpse. They used it on actual mummies.”

“Better than rot, at least,” said Hayley. She tried to look into Liz’s plastic bag, but Liz pulled it away. “Come on Liz, show us what’s in the bag.”

“Okay, okay,” said Liz. With a theatrical flourish, she pulled out Hayley’s modified shorts by the tail. “Check this out.”

Liz had sewn artificial fur all over them, carefully positioned so you couldn’t see the seams or the pockets, and firmly attached a very realistic looking tail to the back. She’d wanted gray fur at first, but Hayley had talked her into using brown, to better match her hair. And now that the costume was complete, Liz had to admit that it looked good. She’d even dyed the tip of the tail black with her own hair dye, which made it look even more lupine.

Liz dug through the bag to find the rest of the costume. “And the bra, and the gloves, and the boots.” She set them all out on the bed. The bra was one of Hayley’s sports bras, fur-covered like the shorts. It wasn’t like she really needed the support, but it made for a convenient piece of the costume. Liz was especially proud of the gloves and boots. Each pair was long enough to cover a good part of the arms or legs respectively, and each was decorated with some wicked-looking resin claws.

“Wow, Liz, that’s great!” said Hayley, hugging Liz in excitement. “Thanks so much! Just like a real wolf!”

“Wait a sec,” said Liz, “I forgot the headband.” She passed the plastic hair accessory with its pointed wolf ears to Hayley, who put it on, then immediately took it off again so she could remove her tracksuit. She stripped down to her underwear, and began putting on her costume.

Even if Hayley’s figure was kind of boyish, Liz had to admire the dedication it took to maintain it. She could leave snacks open in their room and Hayley would never touch them. Instead she’d spend hours at the gym, driving herself to sweat-soaked exhaustion. National level before graduation, she’d said, maybe even international, and Liz could believe it. Her costume showed the most skin of all of theirs, and that muscular body was something worth showing. Hayley’s abs rippled as she waved her firm ass from side to side to send the tail swishing through the air.

The gloves had holes for Hayley’s fingertips, and the claws were positioned so that despite the menacing appearance they didn’t really get in the way. Hayley ran her fingers through the fur on her forearms and smiled.

“Don’t make that cute face!” said Liz. “You’re supposed to be scary!”

Hayley pulled back her lips and gave an unconvincing growl.

“Hold still, Hayley,” said Liz. “I’ve got an idea.” She got out her lipstick. “Just a bit on your nose.” Hayley didn’t protest, so Liz leaned in to color the tip of her nose black. “Perfect!”

“It’s a terrifying werewolf,” laughed Claire. “It’s a good costume, Hayley. So, Liz, how about yours?”

“Oh, you’re going to like it. I spent hours going through all the thrift stores to find this. And after some adjustments...” She pulled out a long black dress.

“Wow, Liz, you really nailed that ‘old lady at a funeral’ look,” said Claire.

“I know, right? Isn’t it awesome? I’m not sure exactly how old it is, but old, for sure. Hand made, and by a good dressmaker. The original owner’s probably dead by now. With my corset, it’s going to be _perfect_.”

Liz pulled off her T-shirt without waiting for a reply. She was already wearing the correct bra, which in this costume would serve mostly to keep her nipples from accidentally popping out. She took her corset from the bag, which was already laced at the back. It wasn’t some fetish thing, only a way to emphasize her already impressive curves, so she wore it loose enough that she could put it on without help by fastening the busk at the front. She pulled the corset around her torso and hooked the steel loops over their posts. The steel bones of the corset squeezed her waist into an eye-catching contrast with her broad hips and spectacularly large breasts.

Liz removed her jeans, and with Hayley’s help, got into the dress. It was long and lacy, and delightfully morbid feeling. The only somewhat incongruous part was the neckline, which she had adjusted to show as much cleavage as she could without getting arrested. If you’ve got it, flaunt it, thought Liz. All the pretenders with their pads and push-up bras couldn’t match _these_.

Just to drive the point home, she put on the matching pendant. It was glass, but nicely cut, and not even Claire could afford a natural ruby this big. The blood-red ornament nestled between her breasts, to draw attention exactly where she wanted it. A black cape over her shoulders completed the outfit.

“One more part,” said Liz. No cheap plastic teeth would do. She had custom molded dentures that fit perfectly over her own canines, so precisely shaped that you couldn’t see the join, and enough practice secretly wearing them that they almost felt like her own fangs. She put them in and grinned. “I vant to suck your blood!” said Liz, and twirled round to show off her costume.

“So,” said Hayley, “now we’re all ready, let’s go to the party!”

Claire checked her phone. “Nobody will be there yet. Besides, with such fashionable costumes we should be fashionably late. We’ll make a better impression that way.”

“Claire’s got a point,” said Liz. “And I’ve got something special I’ve been saving for tonight. Claire, let’s walk back to our place first. See if we can spot anybody else in costume.”

Claire nodded her agreement, and before long the girls were strolling across campus.

* * * * *

“..and ninthly,” said Brian, counting off the points on his fingers, “the Princeton results were never independently replicated. It’s just more p-hacking nonsense. Supernatural stuff _isn’t real_.” Harold held a high power license, and could transmit Morse code at nearly 60 words per minute, but sometimes he could be a real moron. Being chief engineer of the Ham Radio Club didn’t make you infallible.

“I’ve got just four words for you,” said Harold. “Hard. Problem. Of. Consciousness. How can you be sure it’s not real if you can’t even explain that? Look, just check the signal.” He tapped some numbers into the spectrum analyzer and waited for it to redraw.

Brian was in his formal clothes, as befitted a serious occasion. His best dress shirt and pants, bow tie (stylish with no risk of getting caught in machinery), and definitely no fedora. Didn’t those hat-tippers realize how much of a joke it made them look? He sucked his vape, feeling the burn of the unflavored nicotine on his throat (for brain acceleration; he wasn’t some ex-smoker), and held the hit so as not to contaminate the equipment. There really was an unusual signal on the screen.

“Anybody reported it?” asked Brian.

“No point,” said Harold. “It only shows up on Halloween. It will be gone by the time the government arrives. But we did some triangulation once, and it’s definitely coming from the north. Right where those ghost sightings were reported.”

“Sure, ghosts,” said Brian sarcastically. “But whether they’re alive or dead, we can’t have somebody spewing that crap over our channel. Where’s the rest of the club? Let’s track them down.”

“Busy,” said Harold. “Hell, I can’t be out late. Got a real bastard of a proof to finish. It’s all very well for you freshmen, but we get assigned non-trivial problems.”

“You’re not _scared_, are you?” asked Brian accusingly.

“I am merely applying reasonable caution.”

“I’ll check it out myself if you’re not interested. It’ll be a good test for the new SDR.”

“Suit yourself,” said Harold. “And don’t get too spooked.” He laughed his grating donkey-like laugh, and Brian had to join in. “I’ll help you pack for portable operations.”

* * * * *

“It’s a pity,” said Liz, “that we couldn’t find somebody to be a Frankenstein. We’ve almost got the full set.”

“Frankenstein’s monster, you mean,” said Hayley.

“They’re both called Frankenstein. But yeah, the monster.”

“What is it with you and dead bodies? I’d still be the only living one.”

“Frankenstein isn’t properly dead,” said Liz. “ ‘It’s aliiiive,’ right?”

“Why not the scientist?”

“Not a bad idea. I could do a mad scientist costume. Some EL wire for lighting effects, lab coat, crazy hair and all that. Next year maybe. What do you think, Claire?”

“They’re both good,” Claire replied. “But I do like the mad scientist idea.”

The girls walked in silence for a while, and then, as they passed the physics department, Liz spotted somebody in costume. At last! Bow tie, thick-rimmed glasses, belt _and_ suspenders, backpack—it was right out of the movies. He was even wearing a pocket protector. And was that a _calculator watch_?

“Nice costume,” called Liz.

“What costume?” replied the nerd, somehow keeping a straight face.

“I love a guy with a sense of humor,” muttered Liz as they walked on past him. He wasn’t bad looking either, once you looked past the costume. His hair was artistically messy, and long enough that Liz wondered how she could style it.

“Maybe he’s serious,” said Hayley.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Nobody dresses like that unironically.” Liz turned round, and leaning forward just a little to enhance her cleavage, blew him a kiss. “See you at the party!” Without breaking character, the stranger pushed his glasses up and turned away.

It wasn’t far to Liz and Hayley’s dorm, and soon the girls were inside sitting on Liz’s bed. “Hold on a minute,” said Liz. “I’ve gotta get something from the kitchen.” She hurried through the corridors.

Liz took a glass carafe from the cupboard, and a tray of ice cubes from the freezer. She filled the carafe with ice water, then, without stopping to talk to anybody, rushed back to her waiting friends and put the carafe on a coaster on the desk.

“Something special,” said Liz, pulling a whole drawer out of the desk, then reaching inside the gap for a small glass bottle filled with green liquid. “Absinthe. The _real_ kind, with the proper illegal thujone level.”

“Where’d you get that?” asked Hayley.

“I cannot reveal my sources,” said Liz smugly. “It won’t poison you though. I already tried some.”

“How strong?” asked Claire.

“Seventy percent volume. But you’re supposed to dilute it. Look, I’ve got the right glasses and everything.”

“Let’s try some then,” said Claire.

“Yeah,” said Hayley.

Liz got out three reservoir glasses, each with a bulbous section at the base to hold a shot of absinthe. She filled each to the line, then found her slotted spoon and sugar cubes.

“You put the spoon over the top like this, and the sugar, then pour the water slowly over it.” The absinthe slowly turned a milky pale green as Liz topped up the glass with water.

“Just like ouzo,” said Claire. “I tried ouzo when we summered in Greece.”

“This is better,” said Liz, even though she hadn’t actually tried ouzo. It wasn’t really a lie, because this was _absinthe_. “Hayley, you can skip the sugar if you like. But it’s kind of bitter without.”

“Yeah, skip it. Thanks, Liz.”

Liz topped up the remaining two glasses. “Here you go, girls. Let’s drink.” She took a sip herself. Absinthe was the perfect drink for Halloween—it was the green fairy, the drink of madness and murder. No other spirit was so gothic. She sat back down on the bed between her friends.

“Say, Liz,” said Claire, after a mouthful of absinthe, “is it true you hooked up with Jess? I saw you making out with her.”

“Yeah, it’s true.”

“What’s it like, doing it with a girl?”

Kind of awkward actually, but Liz had an image to maintain. She was _definitely_ bisexual and not just doing it for attention. “Well...,” said Liz, “let’s just say female tongue feels pretty much the same as male tongue.”

“She went down on you?” asked Claire.

“Yeah. She’s good at it too.”

“Did you go down on her?”

“No, but she was fine with that. Like, that was the offer when she invited me back to her place.”

“Damn,” said Hayley. “Why can’t somebody offer me something like that?”

“She said you were kind of cute. Want an introduction?”

“No, I mean a man.”

“Like that would happen,” laughed Claire.

“You never know,” said Liz. And it wasn’t so implausible. Liz loved sucking dick. It made her wet every time, and she considered herself very good at it. It was the real reason she’d gotten the tongue piercing. If there was a guy she liked, she’d have no problem giving him a blowjob without getting anything in return. She did like getting oral too, but if she had to choose, she’d pick giving over receiving every time. Surely there were guys who felt the same way. “Hayley, I’ll wingman for you,” said Liz, patting Hayley’s shoulder. “When I find a hot guy who loves eating pussy I’ll send him your way.”

“Wingwoman,” said Hayley.

“Is that even a word?”

“It is now. I won’t get my hopes up too much, but I can dream. Thanks, Liz.” Hayley chugged the remains of her absinthe.

Liz looked down at her own empty glass. “Another glass before we hit the party?”

“Hell yeah,” said Hayley. “No sugar.”

About half way through their second glasses, Claire’s phone buzzed.

“Uh, bad news,” said Claire. “Take a look out the window.”

They all peered through the curtains. Blue lights flashed over the neighboring dorm. “Shit,” said Liz. “It’s crawling with cops. Party’s over already, I guess.”

“It looks so,” said Claire.

“So now what?” asked Hayley.

Claire’s thumbs flew over her phone. “It’s Halloween. There must be other parties.”

“_Costume_ parties?” asked Liz. “I thought that was the only one.”

Some more frantic texting later, and Claire had to conclude that Liz was right.

“Let’s just show up in costume anyway,” said Liz, trying to make the best of it.

“Nobody’s stopping you,” said Claire, “but I don’t personally share your enthusiasm for looking like a complete lunatic. I’m going back to my room to change.”

“Wait, you can’t be serious. After all that effort?”

“Claire’s right,” said Hayley. “If it’s just the three of us...”

“But...” The disappointment was almost physically painful. Deep breaths, thought Liz. Finish the booze. And Claire hadn’t finished hers, so she wouldn’t be leaving right that second. But as the last drops of absinthe drained from her glass, Liz felt a strange kind of clarity. There would never be a better time for it than now. The night could be saved after all, if only she could convince them. A sly smile spread over her face as she addressed her companions.

“Hear me out on this,” said Liz. “There’s something I’ve been planning for a while, and Halloween is the _perfect_ night for it. Doing it in costume makes it even better. We’re going on an expedition to the haunted house.”

“What, that one on Walpole Road?” asked Hayley.

“I already told you about it.”

“It’s just abandoned,” said Hayley. “There’s lots of places like it that side of town.”

“Walpole Road?” laughed Claire. “It’s haunted by the ghosts of crackheads O.D.ed.”

“It’s right on the end of the road, so it doesn’t really count,” said Liz. “And it’s all boarded up. Nobody’s been inside for years. Decades probably. But you must have heard the stories. It’s just crawling with supernatural stuff. We’ve gotta spend the night there.”

“Are you crazy?” asked Hayley. “How would we even get inside?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got it all planned out. I’ll get us in.”

“Liz,” interrupted Claire, “you’re missing something very important. Some girl’s night out might be fun, but this is Halloween. I’ve got three more invites here. Invites to parties where there will be a great many attractive men.”

“Okay, so let’s say you go to one. Maybe it will be fun, or maybe you’ll pick up some jock type, and the next day you’ll be bitching about what an asshole he was, or his dick was too small or something. As I keep saying, the freaks are a better lay, and you won’t find them at some boring non-costume party. But a haunted house is _guaranteed_ to be interesting.”

“I can’t fuck a ghost,” said Claire.

“You totally can. I read this true story once—”

“I prefer _living_ guys.”

“Are you seriously suggesting, after all this work, we just take off the costumes and give up?”

“We can save them for next year.”

“I’m making new ones next year! Hayley, I’ll make you the best mad scientist outfit ever.”

“That’s sweet of you,” said Hayley, “but Claire has a point.”

Liz stood up straight, and glared at her two friends with a look of grim determination. “You’re not _scared_, are you?”

“Certainly not,” said Claire, her voice serious all of a sudden.

“Yeah, ghosts aren’t even real,” added Hayley.

“So we should at least check it out. We don’t have have to stay if it’s boring. And like I said, I’ve got it all planned. I’ve got this big air mattress, and flashlights, and—”

“I’ll call my driver,” said Claire.

* * * * *

The straps of Brian’s backpack dug into his shoulders. Obviously he needed all the antennas (disassembled for transport), and the laptop with the software-defined radio module, and both the transceivers, and the battery power bank, and all the filters and miscellaneous small parts. And because it might never get used otherwise, he definitely had to bring that weird homebrew amplifier from the junkbox. And some of the equipment was kind of flaky, so he needed the spares, and the tools. He wasn’t really _planning_ on using the butane-powered soldering iron, but it wouldn’t do to go out unprepared. He had a good justification for every single item. But justification or not, they made it heavy going pedaling his bike up the hill.

At least there wasn’t much traffic about this part of town. At the top of the hill, Brian stopped and woke the laptop from hibernation. Initial measurements were most disconcerting. Either he was practically on top of the pirate transmitter, or it was radiating some serious power. Harold was supposedly still at the station, but he couldn’t make contact. He even tried his phone, which he hated doing, but there was no signal there either. Well, it didn’t matter. He’d already planned to do this alone.

Exactly one kilometer down the road, he stopped again. Feeling a little apprehensive, he routed the signal through a twenty decibel attenuator, and after seeing the power level was glad he did. No need to unpack the high-gain antenna next stop. The signal was perplexing: no protocol he recognized, but clearly not just noise, and varying over time in a way that encrypted transmissions didn’t. He tweaked the filter settings and shivered. It must be getting cold, thought Brian. No matter. Somewhere near the bottom of the backpack he’d packed his lab coat.

* * * * *

“Liz, I can’t make Styles wait while you carry out your breaking-and-entering routine,” said Claire. “Some of us are supposed to be respectable.”

The glossy white luxury sedan rolled up to the parking bay outside Liz’s dorm, and Mr Styles, Claire’s chauffeur, stepped out. His tailored suit was immaculate as always, his gloves spotlessly clean.

“Good evening, Miss Chan.” He nodded almost imperceptibly to Claire. “And good evening, Miss Ashton, Miss Dunn,” he continued, greeting Liz and Hayley in turn.

“Good evening, Styles,” replied Claire.

“Attending a party, are we?” He took the bag Liz had packed. “Allow me...” The girls got into the car, with Claire sitting in the front. She gave directions, and Mr Styles accelerated smoothly away.

Liz couldn’t see any GPS unit from the back. Mr Styles’ navigation was apparently as faultless as his driving. She gazed out into the darkness, excitement growing as she recognized the houses of Walpole Road. Then the buildings fell away as they passed into the small wooded area, and the car quietly slowed to a halt. The haunted house!

Mr Styles’ voice showed only the slightest hint of skepticism. “I believe this is your destination, Miss Chan, although I see no signs of the party. Two-hundred and one Walpole Road. May I confirm I heard you correctly?”

“It’s correct,” said Claire, sounding nervous. “We’re just a little early. We’re meeting a friend here.” She pulled her phone from her purse, and waved it for emphasis, but didn’t look at it. “There’s no need for you to wait. We’ll call you in the morning.”

“As you wish.” He retrieved the bag from the trunk before driving away into the darkness.

“All right! Haunted house!” said Liz. She couldn’t climb the fence this time, at least not without risk of tearing her dress, but it didn’t matter. She got her flashlight out of her purse and turned it on. The padlock on the heavy iron gate was exactly as it had been a week ago, and Liz was prepared. She pulled the case away from her phone. Hidden inside it was a shim of thin steel, carefully cut to size. “Watch this.” Claire and Hayley crowded round as Liz tugged on the shackle of the padlock, then forced the shim down beside it into the body of the lock. She felt something click inside, and pulled the lock open. “Easy!”

The gate swung silently open, and the girls entered the overgrown front yard. Closing the gate behind them, they approached the house. Solid planks of wood were nailed over all the windows, but that was no problem. Liz unbuckled her right boot and pulled out the unusually narrow key she’d hidden inside.

“This one isn’t so easy,” said Liz, her voice low and conspiratorial. “But I’ve done it before, so don’t worry.” She inserted the key so it was almost all the way in, then, putting some pressure on it with her fingers, tapped the back of the key with her flashlight. Nothing happened.

“It might take a few tries,” said Liz after several more failed attempts. “It’s definitely the right shape, or it wouldn’t go in at all.” Maybe it just needed a bit more force. The door thudded loudly as she hit the key again.

“Liz,” whispered Claire, “people are going to hear.”

“It’s Halloween,” said Liz. “Things are supposed to go bump in the night.” She looked at Claire and Hayley expectantly, but they didn’t seem to get it. Liz kept trying. There was a knack to it, getting the right speed and pressure. Maybe the lock pins were stiff. She’d just keep bumping the bump key until it worked.

Several more attempts later, the noise was beginning to worry Liz too. She looked nervously over her shoulder, and ignoring the protests of Claire and Hayley, turned off the flashlight just to be safe. She could do this by touch, just like practice. It really shouldn’t be so difficult. Suddenly and unexpectedly, the key turned in the lock.

The door opened, and Liz stepped inside. She tried the light switch, and as expected, nothing happened. She turned the flashlight on again, shining it over the dusty entrance hall.

“What are you waiting for?” Liz called out to the others. “We’ve got a haunted house to explore.”

* * * * *

Brian put the laptop into his backpack and got back on the bike. He had them now. The mysterious law-breaker wasn’t going to get away with it.

He turned north onto Walpole Road, his lab coat streaming out behind him. Most of the street lights were broken, but his bicycle’s front lamp illuminated a bright patch of road before him, its LEDs powered by the generator built into the wheel hub. Another thousand meters, another measurement. The sidewalk vanished here, so he pushed the bike off the road into the trees, and the lamp faded out as its capacitor discharged. He heard the low roar of an engine, and a ghostly white car cruised by, startling him somewhat. Silly of him to be bothered by a thing like that. It was just a car. Those were just trees. There was nothing spooky here at all.

No need for the laptop this time either. The transmitter couldn’t be more than a few hundred meters away. But when he saw the power level, and realized what it meant, his heart resumed its pounding. Ghosts didn’t operate a transmitter in the kilowatt range. Humans did. Humans who could afford a substantial piece of hardware, who were not afraid of the law, and who would not take kindly to his meddling. He turned off the transceiver immediately, and disconnected both bicycle lamps.

An owl hooted in the distance, making Brian jump. Calm down, calm down, he silently told himself. He took out his vape, and covering the power indicator with his hand, took a few deep hits. He wouldn’t confront the criminals directly, just find the antenna and take some photographs for evidence. The radio of his cellphone might be worthless here, but its camera still worked.

He stealthily pushed the bike through the trees, and almost crashed into a tall brick wall, topped with iron spikes. He pulled himself up to peer over the top. Looming tall in the darkness was a house, big and old looking. Some kind of criminal base? Brian froze motionless, watching and listening for any activity. He didn’t see anything. The windows were all boarded up. Then came a distinct knocking sound. He dropped down at once. Somebody was definitely there.

More knocking sounds came, irregular, and muffled by distance. Brian decided it would be safer to stay away from the road. He pushed the bike with one hand, keeping the other in contact with the wall as he headed for the back of the house. There should be another road that side. The knocking sounds stopped, which didn’t make him feel any safer.

He reached the corner of the wall, but still saw no alternative road. It was hard to see anything in these dark woods. He kept following the wall, then almost fell as the ground dropped away before him. Struggling to control the bike, he reached out to steady himself, and put his hand straight through the rotting wooden panel of a door.

Somehow Brian managed to stay upright. He was more concerned for the bike and the equipment in the backpack than his own body, but he couldn’t ignore the pain in his hand. He pulled it out from the broken door. Bleeding? It was hard to tell. He risked turning his phone on to check by the light of its screen, and didn’t see any blood. He was standing on a narrow path, which was his obvious escape route. After such a near-miss it would be perfectly acceptable to call his existing measurements good and go home.

He’d just have a quick look at the door and then he’d escape. The antenna might be right there behind it, and it would only take a second. He leaned the bike against the wall and peered through the hole he’d made in the door. It was too dark to see anything. He touched the soft, damp wood, and felt the whole door move. If it had once been locked, the lock had long since decayed beyond functionality.

He could look inside, just for a few seconds. If he heard or saw anybody he’d flee down the path to the alternative road. The criminals would be on foot, so they’d never catch him. After arranging his bike for a quick getaway, Brian pushed the door open and sneaked inside.

The ground was covered with thick vegetation. The remains of a long-abandoned garden? Brian was no botanist. The plants were just another inconvenience, hindering his progress toward the house. His forced his way through, then felt himself falling once more. This time he did not remain upright.

* * * * *

“What the fuck was that?” asked Claire, a note of panic in her voice.

“What was what?” asked Liz.

“You heard it.”

“The wind blowing something over outside, probably,” said Liz. “We only just got here. We’re not going to find ghosts in the entrance hall.”

“There’s no wind,” said Hayley. “I’m wearing the skimpiest costume, so I’d know.”

“If it’s outside, then we’re safer here,” said Liz. “Besides, I brought my athame.”

“Any real weapons?” asked Claire.

“It is a real weapon.” Liz reached into the bag and took out a knife with a black handle, about six inches long. She unsheathed it to show them the etchings on the blade. “I’ve done loads of enchantment rituals with this.”

“Fuck this,” said Claire. “I’m calling Styles.”

“Thought you weren’t scared,” said Liz.

“Not scared of _ghosts_. I’m not getting raped by some junkie.” Claire took her phone out of her purse. “Shit. No signal. Liz, check yours.”

“None on mine either,” said Liz.

“Hayley?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay,” said Liz, “don’t panic. We have to think this through logically. If there’s somebody outside, they’re not getting in. They won’t get past the lock. Like, I prepared for it specially and it took me ages to get it open. All we have to do is wait until morning.”

“Maybe it’s just a temporary problem with the phones,” said Hayley.

“Yeah, that’s probably it,” said Liz. It was best to stay optimistic. “Let’s check every so often. Come on, let’s have a look at the rest of the house. There has to be a better place to wait than here.”

* * * * *

Brian gasped for breath. He had dirt in his mouth, and everything seemed to hurt. He’d fallen somehow. The ground had collapsed beneath him, faster than he could react. He moved his limbs experimentally. It occurred to him that the plants he’d been so contemptuous of had quite possibly saved his life, or at least his bones. He was in some kind of cellar, with a hole in the ceiling above him, through which he could see the faint glow of moonlight. He was relieved to find his glasses intact, but he wasn’t so optimistic about the equipment in the backpack.

He took his phone out of his pocket. The phone wasn’t broken either. By the light of its screen he saw a stone floor and walls, and the scattered soil and plant matter that had broken his fall. He was bleeding now, where the plants had abraded his skin. Lacking any better options, he spat on his grazed palms, then wiped them on the cleanest looking part of his lab coat. It stung a bit, but it didn’t look so bad now. The blood would wash out.

Brian stood to get a better look at his surroundings. He jumped to touch the ceiling, but more dirt fell as he did so, so he quickly abandoned that plan. No easy way to climb out of here. Instead he approached the heavy wooden door at the end of the cellar, and tried the handle. He wasn’t particularly surprised to find it locked.

He began slowly unpacking the backpack, checking things for damage. The laptop’s screen was cracked and unusable. The bigger of the two transceivers wouldn’t turn on either. But the smaller one appeared to be working, and Brian knew he had a way out. The amateur spectrum might be swamped by the pirate transmitter, but this was an emergency. He would be completely justified in modifying his transceiver to transmit on somebody else’s channel. The soldering iron would be useful after all.

* * * * *

Following Liz’s suggestion, the girls left the bag with the bedding in the entrance hall and climbed up the spiral staircase to investigate the house from the top down. They found a lot of dust, a lot of cute spiders, and not much else. You could see darker sections of carpet in places where furniture had once covered it, but the furniture itself was gone. The pictures and shelving that had adorned the walls were likewise missing. 

Liz returned to the ground floor feeling more confident. Claire had called some of the wallpaper patterns spooky, but really they were just old. Liz saw no evidence of anything paranormal, and there was no repeat of the crashing noise either. Her friends still seemed nervous but they followed her without protest. She’d just check the last few rooms then get Hayley to inflate the air mattress.

Liz pushed open a heavy wooden door and shined her flashlight inside. This room actually did have furniture: an enormous bookcase against the far wall, presumably too big and heavy to remove. A study? She flicked the light across the floor and a dark rectangular object caught her eye.

“Oh, check that out!” called Liz excitedly. She strode over the dusty carpet and reached for the book. She jumped when Claire grabbed her.

“Are you retarded?” asked Claire.

“I was just—”

“Don’t _touch_ it! Hayley, stop her!”

“Okay, okay, I won’t touch it.”

“Don’t even look at it!” protested Claire. “I thought you knew all about this sort of thing.”

To be fair, it was kind of suspicious. Who just left a book lying on the floor, especially one so old and mysterious looking? But surely looking at the front cover would do no harm. You had to actually read cursed books for the curse to activate, right? Besides, she had her athame.

The writing on the cover looked looked like no writing Liz had seen before. Angular lines of ink formed a chaotic pattern like somebody had sculpted them out of broken glass. “Anyone recognize that?”

“Not me,” said Hayley.

“What the fuck, Hayley, you too? Girls, I’ve got a _genius_ idea. Let’s all split up. We can get ourselves killed sooner that way.”

“It’s printed,” said Liz, “so it can’t be all that old.” She unsheathed her athame and poked the book with the flat of the blade. It didn’t feel magical. “Maybe there’s the name of the publisher inside.” She flipped the cover open with the blade. Facing the title page was a frontispiece: a detailed etching of a bearded old man, kneeling naked on a checkerboard-patterned floor. His face was contorted in agony as he clutched his disemboweled midsection, entrails spilling before him. The title itself, and what she presumed was the publisher’s information, was written in recognizable English letters, and obviously enciphered.

“Well, that’s kind of fucked up,” said Hayley.

“It’s a code,” said Liz. “And they didn’t know much about cryptography back then, so we can solve it. Where’s my notebook? We’ve gotta count the frequency of all the letters.”

“I mean the picture!”

“Give me that,” said Claire. Each hand wrapped in a tissue to avoid touching it directly, she closed the book, and holding it at arm’s length, shoved it onto a shelf of the bookcase. There was a clear and distinctive click.

Liz was up in a flash. Each shelf and panel had to be tested. She knew what she’d heard, and there was no stopping her now. It came as no surprise when the bottom shelf swung out toward her, revealing a narrow flight of stone steps descending into darkness.

“Holy shit, girls! Check this out!” exclaimed Liz. “It’s a real secret passage.”

“Close it,” said Claire, sounding more scared than ever. “I’m not going down there.”

“Nobody’s forcing you to,” said Liz, already stepping into the opening.

“I can’t believe it,” muttered Claire. “We’re really splitting up. You’re out of your goddamned mind.” Liz hesitated. The expedition was supposed to be fun, but none of the others looked to be having a good time.

Liz decided that splitting the group would be a very bad idea, and climbed out of the secret passage. “Sorry girls,” she said. “I really was being retarded.”

Claire appeared mollified by that, but then she pulled out her phone, and spoke she like she’d just read her own death sentence. “It gets worse. My phone’s completely dead.”

Hayley hid it better, but Liz could tell she was scared too. There was a slight quiver in her voice. “Mine too.” Well, shit, this really was serious. The secret passage could wait. Liz swung the shelf back into place and checked her own phone. “And yours?” asked Hayley.

“Yeah, mine too.”

Before she could decide what to do, Liz heard a loud thud from somewhere else in the house. Hayley was first to react. She dashed across the floor like it was her 200 meter sprint and slammed the door closed. She pushed against it with all her strength. “Help me!” she yelled.

Liz and Claire rushed to her side. All three of them held the door closed, but nobody was trying to get in. “We just stay here forever?” asked Liz.

“We have to jam the door somehow,” said Claire.

“With what?” asked Liz. There was no obvious solution.

“Can we drag the bookcase across?” asked Claire.

There was another thud that shook the whole house.

“That’s not a ghost,” said Hayley. “There’s somebody else here.” She grabbed Liz’s hand, and Liz felt the claws of her costume digging into her skin.

“How about we escape through the window?” asked Claire. “Maybe we can get the boards off.”

“With what?” asked Liz again. She’d already checked the boards from the outside during her previous reconnaissance visit. The nails were thick and numerous.

“They won’t know about the secret passage,” said Hayley softly. “We could hide down there.”

“And what if we’re trapped?” asked Claire.

“We’re already trapped,” said Hayley.

Liz’s mind was made up. “Hayley, take my athame and guard the door. Claire, come with me and let me out if the passage won’t open from the inside. I’m going to check if it’s really a trap.” Nobody protested. Less enthusiastically this time, Liz climbed down the opening in the bookcase.

* * * * *

Had he somehow broken it during disassembly? Both the transceivers lay in pieces in front of Brian, and now even the small one wouldn’t turn on. It just didn’t make sense. He probed with his multimeter, checking voltages at every test point. How could that possibly be zero? It was like the circuit was actively trying to thwart him.

All the capacitors looked good, and he couldn’t see any scorch marks, but he sniffed the board to be sure. Damn, there really was something burned. A little surface-mount fuse, easy enough to bypass, but fuses were there for a reason. Bizarre as it seemed, if he’d understood the power supply correctly then the over-current fault couldn’t have been anywhere else. He checked continuity between the output stage amplifier’s power pins and his meter gave a long and ominous beep.

Junkbox amplifier, thought Brian, don’t fail me now. Signal integrity would be garbage, but he could splice it in anyway. It wasn’t like he needed much for an SOS. But before he could fire up the soldering iron, his phone cut out, and the cellar was plunged into darkness.

He found his vape, which still worked. It was far from an ideal light source. Better to let his eyes adjust, and see if the moonlight from the hole above him would be any use. Brian sat listening to his own breathing, and some time later he could make out the locked door at the far end of the cellar.

There was, he realized, one more thing to try. As distasteful as it seemed, brute force was always an option. Treading carefully around the scattered electronics, he headed for the door. He took a deep breath, then ran forward and rammed his shoulder against the solid wood. The lock still held.

There was only so much he could do without seriously hurting himself. A flying kick, perhaps? He began dragging vegetation toward the door for a softer landing. Wishing very much that he’d taken those karate lessons, he made a short run-up and leaped into the air with both feet forward. It hurt a lot more than the last attempt, and it made a lot of noise, but the door remained as stubbornly closed as ever. It clearly wasn’t going to work.

Try to climb out, or wait until dawn? Brian jumped for the ceiling again, and the shower of falling dirt made his decision for him. He had no desire to be buried alive.

* * * * *

“Okay, stick close to me,” said Liz, as she closed the secret passage over her head. Hayley was clinging to her arm already, and Claire was right there too, but if she was to be leader then she had to sound reassuring. She didn’t want to call this place a ‘dungeon,’ but those bars over the doors certainly looked as if they could keep people in, and the bare dirt floor was far from reassuring. And there were a lot of doors, and a lot of branching, maze-like corridors. You could get lost down here.

“There’s probably another way out,” said Liz. “We’ll search for it, but just in case there isn’t, I’ll mark the way back.” She drew an arrow on the rough stone wall with her lipstick.

The three of them proceeded down the narrow corridor, shining their flashlights into each room as they passed, but finding only dust and cobwebs. They reached a branch in the corridor, and Liz marked the wall with her lipstick before turning left. There were no side rooms here, but she could see a door at the far end.

Liz opened the door and all three of the girls entered. The room was no bigger than the rooms they had passed, but it was not empty. The floor here was tiled in an eerily familiar checkerboard pattern. Liz’s flashlight illuminated a smoothly polished block of granite with a animal skull resting on top of it, and even she began to wonder if they shouldn’t just take their chances above ground. Liz was no zoologist, but she was pretty sure the skull had once belonged to a goat.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Hayley.

“Don’t touch anything,” said Claire.

“I won’t,” said Liz. “But we should at least check for secret passages.” She waved the flashlight around, then knelt to examine the tiled floor.

Suddenly, Hayley thrust her hand into the fur of her shorts and pulled out her phone. She dropped it at once, sending it skidding across the tiles. “It’s hot!” cried Hayley.

Claire checked her phone too, and set it down on the floor. “Mine too.”

Liz reached into her own purse, and her hand jerked back in pain as her skin sizzled against something burning hot. In this confined space there was nothing she could do to stop it hitting the block of granite.

The stone felt icy cold to the touch. Liz pulled her hand away, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the goat skull, which shimmered like a desert mirage. She felt an odd sense of calm as she stared at it, like she was waking up from a long and pleasant dream. Angular cracks appeared in the walls, glowing as blood-red as her pendant. The cracks extended onto the floor, onto her dress, onto her skin. She hardly noticed the screams of her companions as the blinding glow overwhelmed her vision.

* * * * *

Brian pulled himself up from the hard stone floor and blinked back the darkness. He must have been dreaming. And what a dream: the whole universe at once, from quark to supercluster, arrayed before him in all its glorious order. He was buzzing with energy. The room was pitch black but he visualized its contents as clear as day. He could see it all now, fitting together as one great machine. There were no illusions: the Necker cube was flat; Schroeder’s stairs mere lines.

By Kekulé’s ouroborus! It was no dream! No illusions indeed: the searing clarity of understanding shot across his synapses like a rocket. Quantum gravity; dark matter—or dim matter, for it was not so dark as the cosmologists supposed; Maxwell’s equations so much more beautiful in their fully symmetric form. Yes, the implications were obvious: how foolish to search for proton decay without the right catalyst!

Brian threw his head back in maniacal laughter as his hands flew over the components. Yes, here the scales of reality could be unified, here the self-reinforcing resonant structure could bend matter to his tune. Visions of fame and fortune flashed into his mind, only to vanish like boiling ether. What did those Swedish hacks know about physics? The real prize was power, and he had power in abundance.

The stream of monopoles flew through the coil, and Brian’s hair stood up like he was touching a Van de Graaff generator. He could smell ozone. A blue glow lit the room, revealing everything exactly where he had left it. Brian reached out with the electrode, and there was a mighty crack as the electric arc almost blinded him.

Foolish! No, it would not do to get caught up in the excitement of discovery. A scientist must always be prepared: he would dress for the occasion. That puny calculating machine he had once called his laptop was useless compared to the designs swarming inside his head, but its parts could be repurposed, improved. There were polarizing filters, liquid crystal, everything he needed. His accursed nearsightedness could be fixed later; for now his primitive lenses would serve as the base for his goggles.

Brian had no vacuum chamber, and no indium tin oxide, but it was nothing a few more voltage multiplier stages couldn’t fix. Field strength was potential difference over distance, and he had limitless potential. The goggles flickered between stylishly clear and welder’s dark, sparks crackling around them.

Now, control! Brian briefly lamented his lack of drill bits before deciding trans-cutaneous sensing would suffice. He didn’t technically _need_ a hole in his skull. Clamping the electrodes to his head, he routed his amplified brain-waves through the goggles, switching them at the speed of thought.

It was time to leave this prison. The goggles darkened as smoke billowed from the door and the lock glowed white hot. Nobody could stop him now. He had a pirate radio broadcaster to track down.

* * * * *

“Are you okay?” asked Liz. All three of them were lying on the tiled floor, which showed no signs of the glowing cracks. She floated up to find a small pile of white dust where the goat skull had been. Something weird had happened, but it felt _right_. It was like she’d been stranded in a parallel universe all her life and had only now come home.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Hayley, leaping upright and swishing her tail from side to side. “I feel great, actually.” She swiped her claws at the wall and gouged huge chunks of rock out of it.

“Whatever were we scared of?” laughed Claire, also up and alert. “Somebody invading our house? I’ll see about that.”

“I’m feeling kind of thirsty,” said Liz, flicking her tongue over her sharp fangs.

“Yeah, let’s hunt!” said Hayley. She punched the door, sending shattered fragments of wood flying.

“Wait a moment,” said Claire. “Let’s _stalk_. I’ll find them, and we’ll set an ambush.” She removed her diadem and touched the snake emblem. The diadem seemed to flow and warp, splitting and stretching to a full six feet in length and spilling down to the floor. Shiny gold plating became grayish-brown scales, and the emblem bulged out into a serpentine head. Its hood flared, and its tongue flickered out. Claire grasped the cobra by the neck, holding it at arm’s length.

“Find the intruder, my slave,” called Claire, gazing into the cobra’s eyes. She released the snake to slither away through the remains of the door, then sat on the granite altar like it was a throne.

“It will obey?” asked Liz.

“All must obey my will,” said Claire.

“It’s just one snake,” said Hayley, pacing back and forth impatiently. “It needs some help.” Without waiting for a reply, she dashed out of the chamber after it.

* * * * *

With a dramatic sweep of his arm, Brian swung the door open. The glow of his generator lit his way clearly; finding the exit would be trivial. His heart raced as a blood-curdling howl echoed through the corridors. Blood-curdling? No, he would not be tricked so easily. Somebody was pretending to be a wolf. Most likely it was the same idiot who was responsible for the transmissions, and in any case such irritating noise was intolerable.

And with (a quick mental inventory later) a total of five microphones at his disposal, any such noisy nuisance could be tracked down as easily as a moron with a spark gap. The instrument’s design coalesced from the raging maestrom of thoughts inside his head, and Brian set to work.

Curse these clumsy hands! Another set of fingers would not go unappreciated. Brian made a mental note to stop by the med school for a little self-surgery. But first, it was time to catch a fake wolf. He flicked the switch, and the needle quivered over its scale.

“I hear you breathing,” muttered Brian. The effect of his own voice on the instrument was canceled completely.

He pushed forward, mentally calculating and compensating for the reflections of the sound off the walls. That fake wolf was fast! Fast, but stupid: it had just gone down a dead end. He charged his electrode, ready to smite it with artificial lightning.

The reading was off the scale. Brian had to be right on top of it now, but where was the fake wolf? He checked a door to the side, and a woman wrapped in bandages stepped out.

“It’s cheating if you don’t breathe,” protested Brian.

“Says who?” asked a woman in a black dress with an indecently low neckline. She wasn’t breathing either.

“You!” said Brian. “The girl from earlier!” She smiled a toothy smile, but did not reply. And the fake wolf would be—

“Get him!” yelled the girl from earlier.

Something heavy and furry dropped down from the ceiling on top of him.

* * * * *

Bandages unraveled from Claire’s body and flurried through the air to bind the intruder. They wrapped him tight, and Hayley picked him up by the waist, taking care to avoid the strange contraptions strapped to his body.

The girl from earlier? Liz was sure she’d heard him right. Could it really be _him_? She looked closer: the goggles covered his eyes, but beneath the blood-stained lab coat was the same shirt and bow tie.

“I don’t think we need to kill him,” said Liz. “I have a much better idea. We’re not going to find any ghosts, Claire, but this guy’s a freak for sure. Let’s bring him upstairs.”

Hayley dragged him along the lipstick-signposted way out, Liz and Claire following close behind. The smell of his blood was driving Liz crazy. They all piled out of the opening in the bookcase, and she led them to the entrance hall where the bag with the air mattress was sitting.

“How fast can you get that inflated, Hayley?” asked Liz. Hayley didn’t even bother with the pump, instead blowing directly into it. That was some impressive lung power. “Watch those claws!”

Their captive lay bound on the floor, guarded by Claire and her snake. Liz could see his neck. Just one quick bite... But no, she was enjoying the anticipation. Hayley plugged the air mattress, and Liz dragged their captive onto it. First, she’d tear off the lab coat...

* * * * *

The biggest shock to Brian was the realization that his theory was incomplete. Certainly blood could be replaced by something more efficient, which could explain the lack of breathing, but hovering through the air? Anti-gravity was _impossible_. Had Harold been right after all? And the bandages, as best he could tell from his rather uncomfortable position, were plain cotton. Not even his own (planned) nanomachine-enhanced fabrics could move like that. Plain cotton or not, they held his legs very firmly together, and his arms tight behind his back.

The girl in the dress sent him bouncing face-up onto the mattress. She learned over him, and Brian’s thoughts turned to matters most unscientific. No! When he ruled the world he would have a vast harem, but to let his focus slip now would be unforgivable. The wench was practically flashing him!

His devices were still powered on, so despite his compromised position he still had the advantage. He could, Brian told himself while he struggled to keep his eyes off that stunning cleavage, escape any time he wanted to. Humans in stories slayed vampires all the time. It wouldn’t do any harm to observe for a while.

The vampire (he no longer doubted her identity) tore at his coat, sending buttons flying across the room. She pulled off some more bandages and ripped his shirt too, removing his bow tie and exposing his chest. She straddled him and looked down through his clear goggles.

“I’m glad you could make it to the party,” said the vampire. “I’m ever so thirsty.” There was something strange about her clear blue eyes. “You’ll let me drink a little, won’t you?” Some kind of partial paralysis. He couldn’t look away, only stare back at her penetrating gaze. “We’re only going to hurt you a little.”

Who says you get to hurt me at all? Brian was irritated by the suggestion, but still he observed. The vampire was so close she was practically kissing him. A certain autonomous reaction stirred in Brian’s body, much to his annoyance. He dismissed it as just the novelty of the situation. He could have gotten as many girls as he’d wanted if only he hadn’t been busy with more important matters. It wasn’t like he was _attracted_ to the girl who’d so brazenly flirted with him earlier that day.

“What’s your name?” asked the vampire.

“Brian,” he found himself saying.

“Mine’s Liz,” she replied. “Brian, from a magical perspective, semen is practically the same thing as blood. Give me a little taste, and there’s something else of yours I’ll suck. I promise you won’t regret it. I’m _very_ good, you know.”

Even with all the blood he was wasting in his useless erection, he knew he could spare a pint with no ill effects. It wasn’t like he was letting her do it just because he wanted his dick sucked. When he ruled the world he’d have thousands—millions!—of hot chicks all begging for his dick, so it didn’t really matter if this Liz girl did it or not.

Liz broke off her paralyzing gaze to lick his neck. He could feel her teeth scraping over his skin, and a small hard nub—a tongue piercing? It would be a good time to escape, but then again, he was still making valuable observations. Liz returned to stare at him once more, and once more he couldn’t look away. “What do you say?” asked Liz.

He couldn’t look away _now_, but some pathetic magic was no match for the power of science. Trapped under the girl or not, Brian was still on top of the situation. Sparks flied as his goggles darkened, and he felt Liz reel back in surprise. No eye paralysis now! Be surprised all right—yes, he’d take control! Making such offers—well, two could play at that game.

“Don’t think I’m helpless down here,” said Brian. “Science always beats magic. You can’t manipulate me with your lewd proposal.” It was time to turn the tables. “If you want to suck me, you’ve got to let me lick your pussy.”

Brian switched the goggles clear again so he could see her reaction. To his surprise, Liz was smiling. “That’s most acceptable,” said Liz. She turned to the wolf-girl, who was watching with hungry eyes. “Hayley, I think we’ve found your dream guy. Brian, how about you go down on my friend first?”

It was at this point that Brian realized the wolf-girl—Hayley, Liz had called her—was naked. He could see nipples peeking through the hair on her chest. That thick clump of fur on her crotch was pubic hair, and his cock stretched his underpants as he strained to see what it was hiding. Lick her pussy too? Hell yes he would.

“Most acceptable,” said Brian. He looked at Liz, then turned his eyes to Hayley without any difficulty. She was grinning an even toothier grin than Liz. The mummy girl seemed interested too, putting her snake down to watch.

“Okay Hayley,” said Liz, “cut him up a bit for me.”

Brian was dimly aware that it was going to hurt, but his attention was drawn to Hayley’s body. She didn’t have breasts like Liz, but those legs! How could he have missed them the first he saw her? He’d always thought muscles like that were only found in video games. Hayley’s skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. She stretched a fur-covered arm to the ceiling, then swiped her claws down faster than his eyes could follow.

Brian saw the blood welling up from his chest before he felt the pain. Four thin lines, slowly oozing their bright red droplets. It wasn’t deep, but the effect on Liz was dramatic. She was transfixed, almost hypnotized, staring at his blood like her life (death?) depended on it. She dragged her index finger over the cuts, smearing a trail of blood, then brought her blood-stained finger to her mouth and sucked it.

“You taste _good_,” hissed Liz. She leaned over him to lick his chest, her soft tongue slipping warm and moist over his torn skin. Brian’s thoughts still wavered toward escape, but as Liz licked his wounds, the dull, aching sensation began to fade. Some kind of painkiller in her saliva? If only he could somehow collect a sample.

Liz reached the end of the cuts, then looked up, her chin wet with blood. She licked her lips, then stared at him, fangs gleaming white. “More. I want more.”

She unfastened his suspenders, and unbuckled his belt. Brian felt sharp fingernails scraping against his hips as Liz yanked his pants down, and tore at his underpants with frenzied abandon. On second thoughts, it didn’t really matter if there was something unusual about her spit. His hard penis sprung free, and Liz’s mouth was around it in a flash.

First of all, she sucked off the pre-cum and swallowed. Brian was somewhat concerned about the fangs, but Liz’s claims of skill were no exaggeration. She swirled his tongue around his penis without once scraping it with her teeth. It felt absolutely incredible. No need for a whole harem, thought Brian. Just give me one cock-hungry vampire.

Liz bobbed up and down on Brian’s penis, setting him oscillating on the air mattress. Her dark-colored lips wrapped tightly around him, sliding up and down his shaft. She was, Brian supposed, undead, but her mouth was still wet and warm. If it wasn’t for the lack of breathing he’d have thought she was alive.

But that lack of breathing had its advantages. Liz took Brian’s cock deep into her throat. You couldn’t choke a creature who didn’t need air. She clamped her lips around the base of his cock, and flicked her tongue over it, the metal stud adding to the intense sensation.

Brian had to admire her efficiency. He’d always been skeptical that anybody would be able to beat his own hand, but this was, well, magical. His muscles tensed involuntarily, pulling the bandages hard against his wrists, but Liz kept sucking his cock without the slightest hesitation. She was doing things with her tongue he couldn’t even begin to understand.

His muscles tensed again, and Brian knew that Liz had almost gotten what she wanted. His vision strobed light and dark, goggles flickering from uncontrolled brain-waves. Time seemed to slow down as a thick blast of cum splattered against the back of Liz’s throat.

Brian let the goggles stay dark. The air mattress was comfortable, rising and falling with his breathing. His chest didn’t hurt at all. Then light seared his eyes as somebody ripped his goggles from his face. That blurry figure towering over him was Hayley.

“So, you like licking pussy do you?” asked the wolf-girl.

“Yeah,” Brian replied, even though he hadn’t actually done it before. It wasn’t really a lie, because he’d jerked off to the thought of it more times than he could remember.

“You better do a good job, Frankie,” growled Hayley. “I’m horny as fuck.”

“My name’s not Frankie, it’s Bri—” His complaint was cut short by Hayley’s hairy pussy pressing against his mouth.

“Shut up and lick.”

Just the smell was enough to start his cock swelling once more. This was even better than he’d imagined. Brian thrust his tongue through Hayley’s thick bush to find pussy lips slick with moisture. Sharp claws scraped against his scalp as he began to lick.

The whole question of escape was purely theoretical. Just because he could, didn’t mean he wanted to. And if semen had magical properties, couldn’t vaginal fluids have them too? He was swallowing enough of them. Hayley yanked Brian’s hair, repositioning herself to force her clit against his lips.

Her thick thighs covered his ears, but Brian could still hear sound conducted through the air mattress. “Harder!” Hayley barked down at him. She pressed her crotch against his face, squashing him into the inflatable bedding.

Brian wrapped his lips around Hayley’s clit, ignoring the moisture flowing over his chin. He flicked his tongue over it, triggering more pain in his scalp as Hayley tugged his hair in response. His cock his oozing pre-cum again, and he felt the familiar wetness of Liz’s tongue slurping it up.

“Oh, fuck yeah, that’s it Frankie,” called Hayley.

It was lucky Hayley had so much pubic hair or Brian might not have been been able to breathe at all. He sucked a deep lungful of air through her bush, his tongue running over her engorged clit. They bounced wildly on the mattress, Hayley holding onto him with iron grip.

“Don’t you stop.”

Brian’s tongue was starting to tire. He could hear Hayley’s heavy breathing, and his face was slippery with her juices. A hair was caught in his teeth, and he let his pace slacken as he wondered how to remove it, only to be spurred back into action by claws digging into his head. Keep licking, yeah. Wolf-girl pussy was the most delicious thing in the world. He couldn’t touch himself with his hands bound behind his back, but hands-free orgasm seemed far from impossible. Or not so hands-free if Liz kept licking him like that.

Hayley’s deep growl shook his body, and her magnificent thighs tensed hard around his head. The flood of moisture was almost drowning him. An ear-piecing howl rang out, and her powerful muscles jerked. She climbed off his face.

Where were his glasses? Brian ran his hand over the floor while he licked the sticky fluid from his lips. He found the goggles, and put them back on without bothering to reconnect the electrodes. Hayley was smiling down at him.

“Wow,” said Hayley, “your tongue is _magic_.”

Getting his name wrong was one thing, but this slander could not go unanswered. “Young lady,” said Brian sternly, “I’ll have you know my technique is purely scientific. Must I demonstrate it again until you learn the difference?”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” she said. “I like you, Frankie. You can eat me out as much as you like.”

“It’s Brian!”

Her deep growl vibrated through his chest, and Brian decided it didn’t really matter what his name was.

“Can’t neglect the others though,” said Hayley. “Hey, Liz, you want a go?”

“Let Claire have a turn,” said Liz. Claire had to be the mummy. Brian propped himself up on his elbows to see her almost completely naked, only a few bandages remaining around her arms and legs. She gazed down at him with a look of contempt.

“You’ve never imagine a guy like that would be so big if you didn’t see for yourself,” said Claire. “I’ve got to try _that_.”

His penis? Brian’s friends on the internet all said eight inches was average. But if the mummy girl thought it was big, he was in no hurry to correct her. She reached down to grab him by the balls.

“I curse your seed,” she intoned with great solemnity, “that you shall be as barren as dry sand in the desert.” A dull ache spread through Brian’s testes, and realization slowly dawned on him.

“Did you just make me infertile!?”

“Relax,” said Claire. “It will wear off by morning. You want to fuck or not?”

Regardless of how rude she was, she was pretty damn hot, and as Harold always said, you had to seize every opportunity you got. “Do it,” said Brian.

Claire kicked off her sandals, stepped onto the air mattress, and lowered herself over Brian. She grabbed his hard cock and guided it to her opening. Brian had always thought mummies were supposed to be desiccated, but this one’s pussy was almost as wet as Hayley’s. A good thing too, because she was tight, and otherwise he might never had fit. She dropped down, plunging his cock balls-deep inside her, eyes closed and a look of ecstatic bliss on her face.

The feeling of Claire’s tight pussy squeezing around him might have been enough to make Brian cum right then, but just in time he was distracted by a strange tickling sensation on his torso. The bandages binding him were moving on their own, and more strips of bandage flowed over the air mattress, writhing like snakes and wrapping around his limbs.

It wasn’t like he had any objection to thrusting inside her, but if Claire was going to move him like a puppet anyway, why tire himself out? The magically animated mummy wrapping lifted him up and down, sliding his cock in and out of her wet pussy. Claire reached down to grasp his cock at the base, and a cold, numbing sensation spread through it.

“You don’t cum until I tell you to,” said Claire.

Brian didn’t feel any pressing need to reply. He looked up at her, watching her breasts bounce in time to their movement. The arousing scent of Hayley’s pussy lingered on his face, and he had to admit that without Claire’s enchantment it would all be over already. Sex, to Brian’s surprise, actually did feel as good as it was reputed to.

Claire opened her eyes and looked down at him. She squeezed her vagina around Brian’s cock, stimulating him so intensely that only the magic kept him from orgasm. He watched himself plunge in and out of her pussy, then lay back, letting her take complete control.

The mummy wrappings moved his body, and the walls of Claire’s pussy rippled and squeezed. Brian wasn’t really sure how much time had passed. Claire was breathing hard, even though her magic was doing most of the work. Perhaps he could have set up some data-logging system to measure what exactly was going on. Claire was certainly making a lot of noise; his microphones could record that. And then he felt her pussy tensing around him, and fluids gushing over his cock, and the whole air mattress trembled.

“Now,” intoned Claire.

It was like Brian had been hit by his own artificial lightning. Thoughts dissolved into white noise; muscles clenched harder than the bandages had moved them. His full eight inches slammed into Claire’s pussy, the stimulation of her vaginal walls so intense that it seemed to fill the whole universe. For one timeless moment his cock almost vibrated, pumping semen deep inside her, then Brian collapsed back down, breathing hard.

Claire dismounted him. “Liz,” she said. “you do have a point. I’m not going to complain about that one.”

Brian looked up. All the girls were naked now, crowding eagerly around him. His cock was soft again, but he knew how to change that. “Liz,” said Brian, “I have not forgotten our agreement.”

“Oh, that’s right,” said Liz. “You were going to lick my pussy.” She spread her legs, and as Brian brought his face to her crotch, he decided that ruling the world could wait.

* * * * *

Liz sat in her room, playing with her new phone. None of their old phones had worked again, which was tangible evidence that the events of that night were real. They’d all reverted to their normal forms the next morning, and none of Brian's gadgets still worked, so it was nice to know it wasn’t just a dream. She had the book too, which despite Brian’s claim that the contents were statistically indistinguishable from randomness, she still hoped would one day be decoded.

And all four of them had changed personally. It was most obvious in Claire, who now showed the regal confidence of a natural leader. She’d have a career in politics if she wanted it, that much was certain. Hayley had become even stronger and faster, and her talk of gold medals was no longer idle fantasy. And there was no doubt that Brian was now truly a genius.

As for herself, Liz hadn’t gained anything so flashy, but she wasn’t disappointed. She felt quietly confident that she was the best in the world, and she never tired of using her skill. She did allow Hayley and Claire to share her boyfriend, because they were both good friends and without them she’d never have met him, but neither of them had her talent. She tapped out a message on her phone.

“Brian, why isn’t your cock in my mouth? Come on over right now.”

There was absolutely no way he’d be able to resist.

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at writing multiple POVs. Any feedback much appreciated.


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